


Night Light

by roonerspism



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-23
Updated: 2012-06-23
Packaged: 2017-11-08 09:23:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roonerspism/pseuds/roonerspism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony wakes in the eerie hour just before dawn, where the world is full of darkness so severe it drips from the sky and paints all the space and then all the negative space, and every breath is black. </p>
<p>Bruce is nowhere to be seen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Light

**Author's Note:**

> I put out the call for drabble/ficlet prompts on Tumblr, and a lovely anon requested the following:
> 
>  
> 
> _The light of the arc-reactor keeps Bruce awake._
> 
>  
> 
> This is what happened.

Tony wakes in the eerie hour just before dawn, where the world is full of darkness so severe it drips from the sky and paints all the space and then all the negative space, and every breath is black. He is teetering on the cusp of a dream, a dream of brown hair and soft skin and stubble all caught in a wash of pale green light that is a little too obvious as far as symbolism goes, and it’s all so close to a newly realised reality that for a moment he is actually confused. As sleep slowly leaves him, lingering like a lover’s long goodbye, Tony clings to the dream which his busy brain is already letting go. He stretches his limbs, still heavy with sleep, and then notices that his arms are empty. 

Tony pushes himself upright in bed. The arc reactor glows bright, unmasked in his naked torso, and it is the only light source in the room. He searches by the light of it, seeking out his dream. Bruce is nowhere to be seen.

Shoving aside the last desperately grasping shreds of unconsciousness, Tony slides of out bed and pads across the carpeted floor. The arc reactor’s light throws a soft, blue hue across his body and onto the floor in front of him. His naked frame looks almost alien where the light touches, midnight hair sweeping over morning skin. Tony forgoes dressing himself, modesty never an issue, and slips out of the room in search of his bedfellow. 

It doesn’t take long. When Tony finds him, Bruce is sprawled haphazardly on the sofa, one arm hanging over the side, the other draped across his chest. His hand rises and falls with it, illustrating each beat of life. He is asleep, or perhaps just deeply relaxed, every breath steady and deep. Tony studies the man for a time, a series of questions staging a running race inside his mind, tripping over each other to reach the finish line first. 

He sits on the chair beside the sofa, and reaches out a careful hand, placing it gently on Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce’s eyes remain closed. Bathed in soft, blue light, he looks absolutely at peace. It is such a juxtaposition to certain sides of him that Tony can’t help but smile. Removing his hand from the man’s shoulder, he closes his eyes and wonders why Bruce would draw the anchor and sail away from him so soon after they had come together. 

“What are you doing here?” Bruce’s voice comes quiet and calm.

Tony is stunned out of his reverie, Bruce’s unexpected question disturbing his already disorganised thoughts. “Hello to you, too,” he offers, turning his gaze on the other man.

Bruce, eyes closed even now, replies lazily, “You should be asleep.”

“I was,” Tony says. “Why aren’t you?” A smile curls the corners of Bruce’s mouth, but he says nothing. The silence sends an apprehensive shiver through Tony. He tries again, searching for sympathy, maybe. “You left me.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Bruce tells him, smile falling from his lips.

“Oh?”

Slowly, and somehow with all the grace Bruce had never really been known for, the man sits up, then stands. He moves the three steps to Tony, positioning himself purposefully between Tony’s parted knees. The arc reactor spews its blue light, now onto Bruce’s bare chest and stomach, catching in the thick thatches of hair there. 

“Oh,” Bruce repeats, elaborating none. He smiles once again, faint and tired, yet bubbling with warmth. He raises a hand to Tony’s chest and reaches forward, placing his palm flat against the metal plate that keeps the man alive. The light emanating from it dulls beneath his touch, and his palm glows a fierce blue at the point of contact. 

Understanding dawns on Tony like the sun soon to come, and he lifts his own hands, cupping them over Bruce’s. “Oh,” he says again. Then, “Sorry.”

They stay as they are, for a time, morning breaking around them, shattered shards of sunshine filtering into the room. 

“Come back to bed?” Tony asks, finally. 

“It’s morning,” Bruce points out. 

“So I won’t be the only light in the room.”

Bruce’s smile widens at Tony’s sincerity, warmth spraying forth, rivalling that of the early sunlight creeping into the corners of the room. It is infectious, and Tony finds himself smiling too.

“Okay,” Bruce says at last, nodding. He lets his hand drop from Tony’s chest, their fingers intertwining. 

They head to the bedroom together, and Bruce curls himself around Tony, and sleep sneaks in, finally coming to claim him as the sun outside explodes into the sky.


End file.
